City Scenes of the Unknown
by DaybyDay
Summary: Some day it might seem ridiculous, this notion of forever. It might seem insane, might seem unnecessary.


**City Scenes of the Unknown**

Some day it might seem ridiculous, this notion of forever. It might seem insane, might seem unnecessary.

What do you do at sixteen beyond wish you were a grown up, really?

* * *

><p>Against the backdrop of a new city, one that's bigger and brighter than Ohio, Blaine Anderson and Kurt Hummel discover something more than what they were. New York stands for all that's beautiful and dirty and tragic. Lost souls drifting on subways and in alleyways, music filling the holes of silence covered up against the screech of subway break squeals. The sun sets against tall metal buildings and reflective windows; car horns and sirens permeate even the thickest windows and walls. There's no such thing as silence here, even during the darkest hours of the night.<p>

It's running down the subway steps in anticipation of the rush of the train under your feet and the colorful characters you'll ignore. Kurt Hummel will spend countless hours a fixture in this backdrop, earbuds in or magazine covering covering his profile. In the heat of the summer he'll sit shoulder to shoulder and sweat with the best and smelliest of the people of the city of New York. Blaine Anderson will complain loudly at the dirty water that originated from who knows where that dripped on his head during his morning commute. They'll bundle up in the most fashionable of coats during the freezing winter and hold hands in the East Village. There will be open mic nights on free evenings and a few poetry slams and there will be an opportunity to student rush for Broadway shows, many Broadway shows, ones that Kurt will imagine himself standing on stage for some day.

Their apartment is much too small for what they pay, the staircase narrow and uneven from years of abuse. This building dates back to the 1920's they know, and sometimes they'll drink cheap cabernet on their fire escape and daydream about who lived in their apartment before they did.

"A large Irish family, in the 30's," Blaine will offer, hair frizzy and unkempt from the humidity and eyes glassy from the wine, "Three kids that shared the bedroom and two parents that slept on a cot in what's our living room. They'd splurge on meat for the weekends but there a lot of carrots and potatoes because this was the depression, don't forget."

Kurt will counter, "Four hippies in the 60's - two were a couple, Miriam and Wilson, but the other two just slept on the floor on brightly colored afghans. There was lots of pot and protests in the park."

New York was a different place than they'd thought but at the same time everything they ever imagined. The boys that left Ohio wouldn't recognize themselves now. Blaine's fingers cramped from writing music these days; his voice burned from singing at the top of his lungs. His words, once light and poppy, became more melancholy and romantic, instead. He'd play loudly and with vigor for any audience, but especially for Kurt, who'd watch him always with interest and intent. Afterwards Kurt would chase the lyrics straight out of his mouth, kissing him silent and rendering him speechless with his tongue.

New York lit up at night; they'd walk across the Brooklyn Bridge to DUMBO and eat at cute, over priced cafes pretending they were characters from Gossip Girl, hands linked and dressed in their best.

Sometimes they'll stop right in the middle and look at the city they're leaving behind, even for an evening.

"It's the prettiest nightmare, isn't it?" Kurt says, feeling childishly dramatic. Blaine just tucks him against his chest and kisses his temple.

"Weirdly so."

* * *

><p>3,000 miles away Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson exist in a Los Angeles that no one ever sees.<p>

There's endless casting offices and countless doors closed in their faces. They live in a bungalow in Silver Lake, rented from an old Hispanic woman named Mrs. Sanchos who thinks simply that they're best friends - they don't hold hands when they see her because she has an awful lot of photos of Jesus in her living room. In the streets beyond though, they sit amongst the young Hollywood hipsters and wannabes drinking overpriced coffee and sweet finger foods. They run against the Silver Lake reservoir amongst young families and people with dogs and then eat overpriced (but delicious) food at La Mill.

If Kurt Hummel was surprised at anything when he moved to Hollywood it's that he has no idea how everyone stays so skinny with the array of food selections available. Meetings are conducted over sushi, then lunch is had, and there's always drinks and dinner. One afternoon a week after he lands himself an agent he has to do all four, all with fresh faced and eager young production managers in hopes they might package him for some sort of television deal. Even as he's chasing Blaine in a late night run down Sunset Boulevard he's wondering what the hell he's gotten into, really.

There's holding hands in West Hollywood and finding bars they can dance together in, not caring about brushing glitter on their faces and grinding on the dance floor amongst other gay guys and their allies. They bring Rachel to their favorite place when she visits and by the end of the night she's tipsy and pliant, kissing them both on the cheek before passing out in their bed. They take the couch, too small for two grown boys, really, but they fit their limbs together like puzzle pieces and pass out together, warm and sweaty and more than a little drunk.

Once in awhile there's a trip to the Griffith Park Observatory as it looms over the city beyond, with the Hollywood sign over their shoulder and the future in the distance. Blaine will press his hand to the curve of Kurt's hip and settle his thoughts on what's out there for them.

Traffic's a beast and there are good and bad days but then the perfect song comes on the shuffle, it's 75 degrees and sunny, and the windows get rolled down. Kurt links his fingers with Blaine's over the shift stick and they float there, no where to go but forward.

* * *

><p>In between, Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson sit in a common room at Dalton Academy in Westerville Ohio, kissing over the coffin of a dead canary.<p>

They don't know it then, but someday there's a future for them and different paths but they'll ultimately be there together, whether it's in the sunshine and smog of Los Angeles or the cool dirty New York City fall.


End file.
